


They Belong

by Nicxan



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:14:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22643932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicxan/pseuds/Nicxan
Summary: Someone's not entertained at the Ritual. Papa III is very determined to sort that out.[Written for Angst/Fluff Week 2020.][Prompt was Getting Cirice'd.]
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	They Belong

**Author's Note:**

> Another one for [Angst/Fluff Week 2020](https://ghostbcfandomevents.tumblr.com/post/190451519061/angstfluff-week-schedule-more).  
> Prompt was _Getting Cirice'd._
> 
> This is going to be one of four for this week -- sorry, not gonna do all of them. But this was fun to write and I hope y'all like it!
> 
> And thanks to CaptainAddict as always for beta'ing!

The show had been going great so far. The crowd had a lot of energy -- there were a LOT of them packed in this arena, and the sound hadn’t messed up yet. And Papa? Papa III was in fine form, if he said so himself. All in all, a solid evening.   
  
All eyes were on him -- at least when it wasn’t a ghoul’s solo. He’d never understood how his older brothers could move across the stage. Hell, even though he did it now, he still didn’t understand! All he wanted to do was collapse right onto the floor and sleep right there on the ground.  
  
But the crowd wanted a show. And what a show they would get! He could collapse later.   
  
Papa opened his mouth to speak to the crowd, but Alpha’s stern look made him stop before he could even start. He started the opening riffs for Cirice and Papa took those precious few moments to turn and take a sip of water.   
  
He caught someone’s eye when he did, however. Someone near the front -- someone who looked out of place. Everyone around them looked completely lost in the music or were absolutely overjoyed to be there. But they weren’t. Sure, they smiled, but it didn’t reach their eyes. If anything, that person looked _nervous_. Not something he was really used to seeing.  
  
Papa shot them a wink before turning away from them entirely. He didn’t see their reaction, but hopefully they felt a little better now. But they were only one person. He couldn’t exactly focus on _one person_. There was so much more going on -- like, now, when the drums kicked in alongside the guitars, the riffs, the keyboard ...  
  
It was something else to hear the music he composed being played live. He couldn’t bring himself to wear earplugs when the riffs, the sounds, the melodies -- when everything resonated in his ears so beautifully. It excited him. It got him pumped. More energy for the crowd.   
  
A beautiful feedback loop.   
  
“ _I feel your presence amongst us ..._ ”  
  
Papa had to always focus so hard on remembering the lyrics. Flubbing them up in practice once (and seeing the scathing look from Nihil after) was more than enough for him. So, he strode gracefully across the stage, eyes on the crowd -- and that one person caught his eye again. They didn’t join in on the singing, but at least they didn’t look as nervous as they did before. He couldn’t really parse their expression right now.   
  
Considering that he almost flubbed the next line while trying to figure it out, maybe it was best not to try. No one would’ve noticed his little mess-up but him -- maybe Alpha. Papa internally winced but kept going.   
  
Yet, he couldn’t help but glance at that poor person who seemed to be so incredibly nervous. These rituals were supposed to be fun! Why weren’t they enjoying themselves? Really, he took it as a personal offense. He’d amp it up. He’d strut his stuff. Belt out the lyrics with extra passion. This person would have fun if it was the last thing he ever did. Everyone _else_ was just fine, he could see that, but it wouldn’t be a successful ritual if even _one_ person left unsatisfied.  
  
“ _I can feel the thunder that’s breaking in your heart ..._ ” Papa glanced down at the person again as he sang -- their eyes had lit up. They had leaned forward, hands gripping the bar.   
  
Interesting.   
  
He hadn’t been there too much for the music video -- he wasn’t needed, frankly -- but he knew what had happened in it. A child dressed like him had taken a girl’s hand to convert her, to show her that he was the only one she could trust ... how she’d be lost without him.   
  
This person didn’t look nervous. They looked _lost_. They looked nervous and scared, perhaps feeling out of place despite wanting to be there. Papa’s heart went out to them, but not too much. They wouldn’t be like this for long, after all. He had been mistaken; they didn’t need entertainment. They needed to _belong_.  
  
Papa wasn’t sure why he did what he did, but he moved forward to the front of the stage, crouching down and holding out his hand to the one who looked so lost. They couldn’t meet his eyes at first; they had looked around at a sea of shocked faces before realizing that Papa was holding his hand out to them.   
  
_“Can’t you see that you’re lost?_ ” Papa sang softly. He kept his eyes on the wayward soul. He kept a smile on his face. If they wanted to belong? He’d make them belong. “ _Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?_ ”  
  
They didn’t hesitate to take his hand. And he had been right -- any sense of nervousness was gone. They looked just as elated as the rest of the crowd now and held his hand in a death grip that he didn’t even try to fight.   
  
They _needed_ this.   
  
They _needed_ that reassurance.   
  
They needed to feel heard and understood. Even if it was only for a few short lyrics, he’d give that to them.   
  
Papa reluctantly pulled away when the chorus was done, but that lone person in the sea of the devout didn’t look lost anymore. They jumped, shouted, and sang off-key with the rest of them.  
  
Perhaps it was the added energy. Perhaps it was the fact that he had helped bring someone closer to them. Either way, Papa coasted on the added energy for the rest of the ritual.   
  
He’d never felt better, and he couldn’t help but think it was the same for them. 


End file.
